


Cabin Crew Hates Us (or, We Are Now Coming Round With In-Flight Snacks)

by foodstuffs



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Belly Kink, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Stuffing Smut, Stuffing, Yes I'm that kind of person, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foodstuffs/pseuds/foodstuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I've been meaning to post something stuffing-related on here for a while, and I guess I finally did it. Based on an imagine I sent to @patrick-is-trohmosexual on tumblr a while back, in which Patrick stuffs himself with airplane snacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Crew Hates Us (or, We Are Now Coming Round With In-Flight Snacks)

Pete was asleep. 

In most circumstances, that wouldn’t be a problem. In many circumstances, in fact, it would be the exact opposite of a problem. Patrick often wished that Pete would sleep more than he did, whether it be for the sake of his own health or Patrick’s sanity. In this specific instance, however, things would be a lot less awkward if he were awake.   
In economy class on their international flight, Pete had discovered that he could order snacks from the comfort of his own seat using the touch-screen in front of him. 

Anticipating a long-haul flight with a lot of boredom, he’d ordered what appeared to be the entire snack trolley before leaning back in his chair to watch Star Wars. Patrick hadn’t noticed him fall asleep, Pete was the kind of person who got really snotty if people chatted during films so his silence in the face of a movie marathon was unconcerning, until the cabin crew walked past to deliver what he’d ordered, and all of it was left with Patrick.   
He hadn’t realised, when Pete was ordering, just how much he’d bought. It had looked like a lot, sure, there were at least six different snacks he asked Patrick if he wanted, but he couldn’t have known how much he was buying. Even with both of their tray-tables folded down it was struggle to fit it all in front of them. Patrick was glad that there was nobody sitting in the aisle seat, because not only would he have had to deal with the disapproving looks but if it was unoccupied then he could use it as additional snack storage. 

When Pete was asleep, he was fast asleep. Patrick knew this, and he was aware that it would be a bad move to try and wake Pete just to have some help with the food. Pete would probably stay asleep the rest of the flight and Patrick would have to shove the snacks into his rucksack and Pete’s carry-on just to cope with the amount around him. Would it get through customs, though? He was sure, but he probably wouldn’t be allowed to take a rucksack full of chocolate and chips and yogurt-pots into international territory. Pete, he knew, would have tried anyway, if they’d called him out for it he would laughed with them and said “well it was worth a try”. Patrick wouldn’t be able to cope with that, even the hypothetical embarrassment was making his face flush. He had to deal with the snacks somehow.   
He couldn’t leave them on the plane, either. There was definitely no chance of him handing them back with the cabin crew came round with the garbage bags, that was almost more embarrassing than the customs scenario, and it would be wasteful. As much as he didn’t want to, considering the healthy-size dinner he’d eaten in the departure lounge, Patrick could only come to one conclusion. He’d just have to eat as much of it as he could. There was no other option. 

\----------

When Pete awoke, it was to the sound of airplane-silence and Patrick’s shallow breaths. Once his mind was engaged he realised that he should probably be worried, he wasn’t sure what to do if Patrick had an asthma attack while they were in the air. When he blinked open his eyes and looked around, however, that wasn’t the sight that greeted him. No, he turned his head to see Patrick surrounded by foil food-wrappers, his tray-table folded up to accommodate for the increasing size of his belly.  
Patrick hadn’t noticed his awakening yet, seemingly engrossed by unwrapping the next bar of candy and shoving it unceremoniously into his mouth. One of his hands was subconsciously holding the curve of his belly and he moaned as he swallowed, lifting his hand to stifle a burp. Rather than stop, given the obvious discomfort he was in, Patrick simply reached for the next snack, a small plastic pot of fruit salad, and started eating that too. Pete could see the indent his jeans were leaving in the tight skin and he could track the way Patrick’s t-shirt rode up a little higher with every snack he demolished.

“Need some help there?” Pete interrupted.

Patrick nearly choked in surprise, and maybe Pete could have timed that a little better. Patrick glared at him in silent retaliation (he was far too polite to try and speak when his mouth was full) but he couldn’t keep it up. The second he swallowed the mouthful of fruit he let out a low moan, his hand reaching down to soothe his belly.

“Maybe.” Patrick admitted, “Maybe you could help me. Or maybe you could just eat the rest, considering you were the one who bought the damn food.”

Pete shrugged, “I’m not really hungry.”

“Does it look like I am?” Patrick snarked.

Pete looked him over, the way his stomach was pressing against the button on his jeans and that he’d unfastened the seatbelt to give himself some more room. Still, despite the tight curve of his belly and the loud gurgling sounds it kept making, the way Patrick was eyeing up the remaining snacks looked exactly that: hungry. Obviously Pete was aware that Patrick was undeniably stuffed and could not logically want to eat anything more, but it still seemed like he kind of did want to. 

So Pete picked up a chocolate bar and offered it to Patrick. That should answer the question.

Patrick, after one final sharp look at Pete, relaxed back in his seat and let Pete feed him the chocolate. He wondered if Pete was going to keep this up, the gentle way he cupped Patrick’s face and fed him little pieces at a time, giving Patrick the freedom to rub his own belly as Pete kept filling him even further. With everything he gave to Patrick it was becoming more obvious that yes, feeding was Pete’s only agenda, and the longer it went on the more he played into it, gazing at Patrick while feeding him grapes from another fruit salad pot. It was cheesy as fuck, but Patrick was liking it. Though after several more chocolate bars and packets of chips and about five ‘Nutella & Go!’ pots, he was starting to feel more than a little discomfited.

“Okay, okay, need a break.” Patrick breathed, lifting his hand to stop Pete from offering him something else.

Pete put the candy back down on the tray table and turned his attention back to Patrick, but this time his hands went straight to Patrick’s aching stomach. It was gurgling loudly, unsurprising, but still slightly embarrassing. Patrick wasn’t sure if anyone else could hear it or if it was just him and Pete, because it was getting progressively louder the more stuffed Patrick became. Besides, he found the whole thing a little too close to exhibitionism if he was honest, and as much as Pete got off on performing to a crowd, that wasn’t Patrick’s style. It was too late to do anything about it, though, so Patrick just had to do his best to keep quiet and remain still for the rest of the flight. There was only a couple hours left, he was sure he could manage it. With Pete’s touch and the way he was caressing the curve of Patrick’s belly, he might even slightly enjoy it.

Until, of course, an announcement buzzed throughout the airplane.

“We would like to warn you of some upcoming turbulence. Please remain in your seats with the seatbelts fastened and please call the cabin crew if you need assistance.”

Patrick groaned. Turbulence was the last thing he needed at that moment, further jostling his already-churning stomach. It ached to a point he could barely stand, even with Pete’s hands doing their best to soothe it he could still feel that constant, dull throb. The seatbelt sign flickered to life above them, and Patrick realised with a sudden epiphany the amount of discomfort he’d have to face for the next fifteen minutes or so. When he’d unfastened the seatbelt it had been loosened to nearly as long as it could go, and that had been a good ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty snacks ago, just before Pete woke up. The button on his jeans was barely holding on, and sitting up straight to dig out the seatbelt was a harder task than he’d like to have admitted. 

Pete watched with rapt fascination as Patrick loosened the belt and tried to fit it around himself. If they’d paid for better seats, it would be unlikely that they would be facing this problem, but Patrick insisted that he was happy flying economy as long as he still had movies to watch. Pete, after another moment spent observing Patrick’s struggle, leant over to give him a hand. Once it had finally clicked into place and Pete had sat back down properly in his own seat, he looked over to see how the band of the seatbelt dug in to Patrick’s stomach. It couldn’t be comfortable, and Pete didn’t like it when Patrick was unhappy, but on the other hand he couldn’t wait to see if it left any indents in his skin. 

As the turbulence started, Patrick could hear everything he’d eaten sloshing around in his belly and God, it felt so strange. He wasn’t sure what to think of it, because while it was uncomfortable and embarrassing, he couldn’t deny that he was not only uncomfortably stuffed but also uncomfortably hard. The soda he’d been drinking, because he’d read something online about electrolytes and sports drinks, was not helping. He kept having to stifle burps for fear of drawing attention and the fizziness felt strange in his bloated belly, not to mention the uncomfortable tightness of the seatbelt. Pete kept giving him sympathetic looks, until he finally decided to make himself useful by giving Patrick belly rubs from his seat, letting Patrick lean his head back and close his eyes, waiting for the turbulence to pass.  
He dozed for almost all of the rest of the flight, falling in and out of slumber as Pete kept rubbing his belly and letting Patrick’s head rest on his shoulder. The next announcement drew him out of that almost-comfortable cycle, though, by telling everyone that there was only twenty minutes to landing. Almost without thinking and still half-asleep, Patrick reached out to pick up the last of the food. He realised that he should probably not still be eating, but there was still a small pile of snacks left and in comparison to everything else he’d eaten, it couldn’t be too much worse. 

Patrick was murmuring meaninglessly as his hands ran over his belly, pressing in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable as Pete helped him finish all that he’d bought. Patrick was pretty far gone, focused only on finishing, and he wanted to lay down, wanted to be anywhere but on a goddamn airplane as it rapidly moved towards landing. He was sipping more soda to keep his ears from popping on the descent, and Pete was shoving empty wrappers into his carry-on.  
It was going to be an interesting landing, that was for sure.

\----------

When they reached the hotel, it was clear that Patrick was no less desperate than he’d been on the plane. He was clutching his belly as they waited for the elevator and he had his hat pulled down self-consciously over his face. It was a blessing that they’d made it out of the airport and into the taxi as quickly as they had, because Pete really wanted to help Patrick as much as Patrick wanted help. There was a flush high over his cheeks, both from embarrassment and exertion, there really had been too much walking and too many stairs for him to be truly comfortable. 

Patrick was silent the entire elevator ride, and then still as they made their way towards the room, leaning against the wall as Pete fumbled with the key card. Once the door was open, Pete guided Patrick into the room as then backed him up against the double bed, pushing him gently back onto the duvet. Slowly and carefully, he started removing Patrick’s t-shirt and then his jeans, hoping that Patrick would feel better once he was free of such constraints. He would look almost angelic lying there with his pale skin against the dark fabric, were it not for the discomfort that was evident in his features and the way his eyes were screwed shut against the harsh ceiling light. Pete flicked the switch so that the room was only dimly lit by the bedside lamps, and then walked back over to Patrick so that he could help him, make him relaxed and comfortable and cared-for. 

“Hey, Patrick,” He cooed, “Calm down, I’ve got you.”

Patrick whined as Pete started to press firm hands against his belly, “It hurts, Pete.”

“I know, I know. I’m gonna do my best to make it stop, though.” Pete hummed.

Patrick nodded in acquiescence and Pete knew that he’d never been trusted by anyone more in his entire than Patrick was trusting him right then, “Okay,” Patrick muttered, “I believe you.”

“Not before I try this, though.” 

Pete started to tickle his stomach just for the hell of it, and Patrick batted his hands away in between huffing breaths. After giving Pete his most effective death-stare, though he was laughing at the same time, Pete begun to do his job properly, rubbing circles into Patrick’s belly and kissing down his neck as he did so. Patrick moaned softly at the feeling, at Pete’s warmth and the softness of his hands and his lips and the now-familiar fullness and tightness of his belly. Pete was so good at this, at comforting him and soothing him and making him feel better, and Patrick was all-but purring as Pete’s gentle actions continued. 

“You did so well, Patrick, finishing all of that. I’m sorry I didn’t help you finish it, but you looked so good sitting there. You looked like you wanted it, too. Couldn’t let anything go to waste.” Pete told him, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, “I had to do something. I didn’t realise how much you’d ordered until it arrived and there was just so much that I panicked.” 

“I’m sorry.” Pete said softly, “Was it good, though?” 

Patrick nodded and hummed in agreement, “Yeah, it was. It was all nice food. There might have just been a little too much, is all.”

Pete laughed, “I figured. You did so good, though, Patrick.”

“Thanks.” Patrick breathed, and now he looked desperate again, albeit in a slightly different way, “Pete, I-”

“Want me to move a little lower?” Pete suggested.

“If you could.”

Pete moved his hand down to where Patrick was hard in his boxers, palming him through the material until Patrick was whimpering with every motion. Pete was still kissing him, trailing plush lips down Patrick’s body and paying attention to the sweet spots he had, like that small dip of softness above his collarbone and his squishy sides, where Pete would bite and suck hickeys around his hips some days before going down on him.

“Have you been hard ever since the flight?” Pete asked, and Patrick nodded, “Did you think I hadn’t noticed? Because I definitely noticed.”

Patrick whined as Pete lowered his boxers and started jerking him off properly, working up a rhythm until Patrick was shifting and writhing beneath him, panting out short breaths as he got closer and closer to coming. There was no decorum about it, they could go slow and romantic whenever they wanted, right now it was just about giving Patrick that release. Pete loved all the little sounds Patrick was making, high-pitched and needy and so, so willing. Finally, Patrick came with a loud whimper and then relaxed back as Pete stepped away, fetching a flannel from the bathroom to clean them up. 

“Love you,” Patrick muttered, his voice soft and sincere, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Pete replied, crawling into bed himself and kissing Patrick’s forehead affectionately, “So when’s our next flight?”

“Fuck off.”


End file.
